


Each Other

by iconic_boy



Category: Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, BDSM, Bipolar Disorder, Blood Kink, Daddy Kink, M/M, Obsession, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Psychosis, Switching, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-08-05 06:04:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16362266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iconic_boy/pseuds/iconic_boy
Summary: Missing: Chris HemsworthDescription: Male, blue eyes, blond hair, caucasian, 6’3 ft, muscular buildLast Seen: Leaving Westmount High School at 3:25pm in a matte black 2018 Jeep WranglerThe message appeared on the news, a photo of 17 year old Chris smiling above it.“Chris’ vehicle was found by police 20 miles out of the city, the police informed us that it was damaged severely. No one was in the car when the police arrived to the scene. The disappearance of Chris Hemsworth has been ruled out as a kidnapping, the police are doing everything they can to locate this young man and return him to his family.”The news reporter looked into the camera, sorrow etched into his features.Where was Chris Hemsworth?





	1. I've Just Seen a Face

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever story on this site! I hope you enjoy it! I listed the warning Rape/Non-Con because at the beginning of their relationship, Chris doesn't give his consent but later does. Chris is also 17 in this AU and Tom is in his 20s (like 22/23), there's a bit of violence in here too. Please heed the warning and read the tags so you know what you're going to be reading! This is a work of fiction. I do not own any of the characters except for my original characters.

Chris ran, his feet pounding on the ground. Thunder grudgingly pushed through the clouds as Chris sped up and his legs grew tired but he had to keep going, he had to. He could feel the wind whipping past him, smooth and loud in his ears. And then he felt them. They were catching up. He could hear their sharp inhales of air. But he was still farther ahead. Safe.

 

He crossed the finish line.

 

Cheers of triumphant and loss erupted from the stands. He won. Chris won!

 

He leapt into the air, joy overtaking him and throwing him up into the blue of the sky. His smile was full of sun on this pale day and wider than ever, this was his first victory in a while and damn did it feel good.

 

"Chris! You did it!" Screamed his friend waiting at the sidelines to congratulate him. Chris was ecstatic and clearly the other students from his school were too. The cries and roars from the crowd were almost deafening. Who knew so many people loved track and field?

 

The sky was a washed out grey; colours dulled, but spirits still bright. Chris panted rapidly, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to slow his beating heart with paced breaths. Running gave him the excitement and exhilaration he needed since he could no longer surf, the waves unlike Australia's, and the itch to restart his life kept him away from his hobby. When he first arrived in America not too long ago, he was a bit disappointed when he realized that surfing wasn't something that the locals did often (as the ocean was a farther than he expected), his board now sitting in the corner of his room collecting dust.

 

That was almost two years ago. Since then Chris had been enrolled in a new school, made some friends pretty quickly, and took up track and field. He was his school's best runner—up until he broke his leg at one of his races. While his leg was healing, Chris started weightlifting and building his muscles significantly (leg exercises done more carefully). His physique drastically changed. From a lean body with toned muscles made for sprinting to bulkier arms and pecs, slim waist with washboard abs, and—as his friends like to call them—thunder thighs. To say the least, Chris was exceptionally happy with his new look. Though it was a bit harder to run with more weight.

 

Chris ran over to his friend, laughing deeply and wrapping his arms around the shorter man. "Jeremy! I did it! Oh my god,  can you believe it?" He laughed again and Jeremy chuckled into his shoulder. They pulled apart and Jeremy gave Chris a solid pat on the back.

 

"Damn kid, you still got it," Jeremy smiled and placed his hands on his hips.

 

"Don't call me kid, you're only a couple of months older than I. And stop standing like that, you look like a fucking proud dad or something," Chris huffed but kept his grin in place. Jeremy was a little strange but Chris liked it, finding his friend amusing and funny, but at times, also mature and confident. Not to mention a pain in Chris' ass,  but that's what best friends are for.

 

Chris had met Jeremy when he first moved here from Australia and had been attending his first day of school, running into him in the hallways—quite literally. It had been an accident of course, Chris was never the type to hurt innocent strangers for his own humor. After apologizing profusely, Chris developed a soft fondness for the smaller boy who blinked rapidly like Chris was the only person who ever tried to talk to him. Jeremy got clingy pretty quickly but Chris liked that Jeremy was able to find a friend in him, the weirdly tall kid with a funny accent. This was the beginning of their cliche friendship.

 

"I am a proud dad!" Cried Jeremy, bringing Chris in for another hug and sobbing fakery into his ear when Chris bent down a bit. "Alright old man, thank you for the fatherly love," Chris chuckled and Jeremy stepped back, a frown on his face.

 

"I'm not old," Jeremy grumbled. "That's what all old people say," Chris teased.

 

"Hey Chris!" Someone from their right yelled, "Could I get your picture for the front page?"

Both of the boys turned to look at the person calling Chris.  He had dirty blond hair, ocean blue eyes and a kind smile that fits him. The camera he was carrying looked new and hung around his neck, large hands holding it lightly.

 

A journalist then, and cute at that, Chris thought. "Yea, alright," he called back, turning to shrug at his friend before running over to where the man with the camera was.

 

"Hey there, name's Chris," other Chris chuckled, "but you can call me Evans. I work for the local newspaper and I'm also in your English class."

 

"Ah yes, I thought I recognized you, Evans," Chris nodded and held out his hand for the other to shake. Evans shook his hand with a firm grip, then let go to stand a few feet away so he could take the photo.

 

"Smile," Evans smirked and then the flash went off with a click.

 

White spots appeared every time Chris blinked. He shook his head and grinned at Evans.

"Thanks for the picture, Hemsy," Evans grinned back and clapped Chris on the back.

 

"You're welcome mate," Hemsworth winked and turned away to go find Jeremy who had seemingly wandered off.

 

Chris found Jeremy talking to some other friends of theirs, laughing and chatting away. He smiled when they noticed him and started congratulating him on the win — giving hugs and friendly pats on the back.

 

After the many thank you’s and smiles of gratitude, Chris soon found himself sitting in the driver’s seat of his jeep. He had told his friends that he was going to go home and shower, and then meet up with them at a party that was being hosted later that evening, celebrating their school’s win.

 

The jeep rumbled to life and the short drive to home started, Chris living only 10 minutes away by car. The houses became a blur, partially because he was zoning out and focusing on the road, but also because he may have been a little over the speed limit.

 

Once he was home, he ran up the stairs to the bathroom and closed the door. Undressing quickly before turning the water on, stepping inside the stall right away even though the water didn’t have a chance to heat up yet. Chris washed his body and hair, sighing as the stickiness of his sweat was swept away by the soft pelting of the water. He shut the water off and stepped out into the steam-filled bathroom, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his hips securely. The squeak of skin against glass sounded throughout the small bathroom, as Chris wiped his hand across the mirror to take in his reflection, glancing at his tired eyes and blond stubble that was beginning to shadow over his jaw.  _ No sense in shaving, it’ll be dark inside the house so no one would notice,  _ Chris thought as he rubbed a large hand over his chin.

 

Chris opened up the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway, dirty clothes in hand and water dripping down his back from his long hair. He walked to the end of the hall into his room, flicking on the lights and shutting the door behind him. Into the hamper the clothes went and into the closet Chris went, shuffling through various shirts, jumpers, and pants. He finally settled on a blue long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, leather jacket, and his favourite dark brown leather shoes. 

 

He chuckled to himself as he remembered what Jeremy had said about his closet and the clothes within it. Jeremy liked to comment on Chris’ choice of clothing, which apparently ranged from “hype 17 year old” to “casual 30 year old city man”. Chris just thought that if he liked what he saw, he got it.

 

Throwing the outfit on, Chris began to hum softly and then walked to his mirror, brushing his blond locks into a bun at the back of his head. Smiling into the mirror, he fixed his jacket and turned to the door, walking out.

 

Spinning around quickly though and grabbing his leather cord necklaces, one with a lightning bolt on it and the other just a woven design. “Can’t forget you two,” Chris grinned and clasped them on.

 

He hopped into his jeep once he was outside, an apple in hand from the kitchen to appease his hunger. The brown vehicle started up and Chris checked the backseat to see if his track bag was still there, making sure to remind himself to bring it into the house when he came back. He drove through the streets, paying attention to the street signs and house numbers to locate his peer’s house. The party was being hosted by some kid in his grade, Chris has never personally met them though so he’d have to give thanks for the celebratory party which was “in honour of Chris Hemsworth, track star!”. Although this was just an excuse to have a party, Chris was still humbled to have his name honoured.

 

The house came into view, teens walking into the large home and some laughing outside having a smoke. Chris had to park his car a bit farther down the street, it seems like there’s more people here than he thought there would be.

 

He locked his car and walked down the sidewalk, his steps long and quiet in the cooling air. Soon he was walking inside and being greeted by the host, a boy just a bit shorter than him and thin with blue dyed hair. Chris thanked him and gave him a side hug, patting him on the back and walking further into the house after a short conversation. He found Jeremy not long after, sitting on one of the bar stools with Scarlett and Robert. Scarlett looked gorgeous in her slim red dress with painted red lips and her blond hair tied up into a classy bun, she was sitting next to Jeremy on another bar stool and enjoying a glass presumably filled with alcohol. Robert also looked very charming in his white dress shirt that had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black slacks to form a classy meets casual look with his black hair swept back just a bit. Robert stood next to Jeremy, a cigarette hanging from his lips, when he glanced up and saw Chris, starting to waved him over, a big smile on his face as he brought him into a hug and welcomed him to the party. Jeremy smirked and slapped Chris’ ass, laughing when Chris rolled his eyes and leant down to give Scarlett a peck on the cheek in greeting. Chris took in Jeremy’s attire, he wore a brown jacket over a black shirt with washed out jeans and a pair of timbs. They were all stunning as usual.

 

“How are my lovely friends doing?” Chris chuckled and grabbed the drink Jeremy offered him. 

 

“Wonderful my dear Chris!” spoke Robert over the loud music, smoke falling from his mouth. 

 

“Robert has already had two coolers so far, it’s going to be a tough morning for this one let me tell ya,” Scarlett winked at Robert and took another sip of her drink to hide her smirk. Chris laughed and listened amusedly as Robert tried to deny just how much he actually drank at these parties.

 

As the four of them talked and enjoyed each other’s presence, people started to whisper and talk about them, noticing that the group of friends decided to show up to a small, ordinary party such as this one. Where they lived, they were considered to be a popular group as all of their parents were well known and made more than decent amounts of money. Chris’ parents were both lawyers who left for business trips around the world, were pretty important people in this business, and kept up good business. Robert’s father was an engineer who enjoyed his work and was able to work on many high paying projects due to his outstanding skills, his mother a nurse at the local hospital who didn’t make quite as much as his father but still wanted to contribute to her family. Scarlett’s dad was a dermatologist who worked in the city connected to their town, her mother was a real estate broker that managed to become popular in her area of expertise. And finally Jeremy’s parents who both worked for the government and had each earned high salaries.

 

If they were all somewhere together, others knew about it. It was strange sometimes but after years of it happening they got used to it. Chris was still adjusting because he only moved here two years ago so it was relatively new to him. The others told him that after a while it gets better.

 

Chris glanced around the room and noticed their friend Mark walking up to them, a beer in hand and his other shoved into the pocket of his dark jeans. His green sweater looked good placed over a light plaid shirt, and his dark hair naturally let curls hang over his forehead. Mark’s parents were both scientists and physicists who worked in a big fancy lab so Mark was obviously also well-off.

 

“Hey Hemsworth,” Mark greeted him and shook his hand, bending over to also give Scarlett a peck on the cheek like Chris did. He then moved on to say hello to Jeremy and Robert.

 

“I booked the place for dinner after at that new restaurant you mentioned Scarlett,” Mark spoke to her as she placed her now empty cup down on the counter. 

 

“Thank you Mark, I would have done it but dad came home for a brief moment so I wanted to hang out with him,” she smiled up at him.

 

“It’s all good, no biggie,” he grinned.

 

Jeremy groaned and pretended to cuddle up next to Chris who was smiling the entire time as he drank his alcoholic beverage, feeling the buzz settle in. He wrapped his arms around Chris and started to sway.

 

“Oh Mark! You’re such a gentleman!” Jeremy faked a woman’s seductive voice as he stared up at Chris and batted his eyelashes.

 

“My darling Scarlett! Anything for you!” Chris played along and held onto Jeremy in return, bending down and pretending to make out with his best friend to tease the other two. Robert absolutely cracked up at the scene unfolding before him. 

 

Mark started to blush heavily as Scarlett scowled and swatted both of them on the head, telling them to stop acting like children. Chris apologised and rubbed the back of his head, laughing as he did so.

 

“So what place are we going to? And why?” Chris inquired and looked around at his friend, gaze landing on Scarlett as she answered.

 

“Mike’s Steakhouse and Bar, that new place in the city. We’re celebrating all of our friendship tonight, thought it would be a nice way to spend an evening especially with how busy we’ve all been lately,”  she spoke fondly and smiled up at them.

 

Chris smiled back at her and pulled her up into a hug, grateful for his wonderful friends and how they were so thoughtful, “Thank you Scarlett.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Scarlett backed away and her grin became wider as the other boys thanked her for thinking of them.

 

The group continued to talk, joking around and discussing what was happening in their classes so far. After a little bit, they all split up and went to mingle around the house. Robert joined some kids from his Industrial Ed class, striking up conversation about their latest project. Mark found a good friend from his science class, Scarlett got dragged away by some girls who went outside to gossip most likely, Jeremy walked into the kitchen to find another drink, and Chris made his way to the front of the house. He walked past the living room where people were dancing and enjoying themselves, through the hallway filled with couples who were talking or making out, then outside into the fresh, cool air. Chris glanced around and noticed a man leaning against the exterior wall of the house, smoking a cigarette and staring right at him. He had dark hair that was just past his ears and swept back, pale skin a stark contrast. He wore a black leather jacket, black shirt and black pants. 

 

_ He sure loves his dark look.  _ Chris thought and stared back but it was too dark for him to see the stranger’s face. 

 

The man nodded at him suddenly, flicked the now done smoke down onto the ground and stepped on it. He walked off the lawn and onto the street, disappearing behind a row of parked cars.

 

Chris shrugged to himself at the strange encounter and went back inside to find his friends after Robert texted him that they were going to leave. A minute later he found them in the exact spot they were in before they separated.

 

“Ready to go, man?” Jeremy asked and Chris nodded, following them out back to the front and outside again, heading to street. 

 

“I’m sending you the address Chris,” Mark spoke as he unlocked his phone, the screen illuminating his face.

 

“Thanks mate,” he patted his friends back and told them he’d follow behind them in his jeep. Scarlett waved and got into her car with Robert, Jeremy offering a ride to Mark as he’d walked here from his Aunt who lived a few streets down.

 

Chris hopped into his jeep and started the engine, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the address and punch it into his GPS. He watched as Scarlett’s 2017 Lincoln Continental (a very nice car which his mum complimented her on every time they saw her) turned into the lane, driving towards Chris’ jeep (2018 Jeep Wrangler, his dad helped him choose and it was indeed the right choice for Chris). She rolled her window down, telling Chris to keep up with them and winking as she took off. Jeremy following in his 1967 Chevy Camaro which Chris remembers helping to fix up with Jeremy and Jeremy’s father when they first became friends. He saluted him and sped off as well.

 

Looking both ways, Chris turned into the correct lane as well and started the drive, accelerating quickly to feel the wind blow over his face through the open window. He zoned out once again after the radio was turned onto some 2000s pop station, the lights around him becoming streaks once he got onto the highway, able to drive faster. The drive into the city from their hometown took about 20 minutes, a short drive but traffic would probably a bit slow due to it being a Friday night.

Once he found the place, he parked next to Jeremy’s car, a space open for him. Mark stepped out of the car as Chris closed his door, Jeremy getting out on the other side of his own car.

 

“Scarlett and Robert already went inside, we wanted to wait for you,” Jeremy said while lighting a cigarette and bringing it up to his lips, taking a long drag. They all began walking together towards the entrance, Chris’ friends chatting with him about something they heard on the radio. A bank was just recently robbed and a few people were killed during the event apparently.

 

Chris shook his head, “People will do anything besides hard work to get money.”

 

Mark agreed and Jeremy laughed, “We hardly work for our money!”

 

“It’s different, we’re going to take over our own family businesses when we’re older and by being handed all this money from our parents, they’re teaching us how to spend it responsibly. Father tells me it’s a good investment, I learn this way supposedly. I mean, we all saved up money that we got for our cars!” Chris concluded and Jeremy snorted but still accepted the idea.

 

Chris grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, holding it for his friends to walk through then walking inside. The place smelled of food, it had a warm atmosphere, a few chandeliers placed around the large interior. Wooden floors were polished and the windows were clear, the view was of the tall buildings across the street and the trimmed bushes outside. It certainly was classy, Chris glad that he decided to put some decent clothes on before the party. 

 

They spotted their other friends, the two already seated and fitting right in with their formal wear. Jeremy led them to the table, sitting down beside Robert giving Mark the chance to sit beside Scarlett and winking at him. Mark blushed furiously again and took his seat, leaving Chris to sit beside him and Jeremy. A waiter came over after a short discussion on drinks, taking their order of red wine and beers for the guys.

 

Raising a questioning brow over at Mark, Jeremy asked why they didn’t ask for I.D.

 

“I may have used my dad’s credit card so I think they think I’m an adult and you’re my colleagues or something. I mean what teenagers would come to an expensive place like this?” Mark shrugged and Robert chuckled, shaking his head.

 

“Yeah okay, that’s legit,” Jeremy nodded and they all started browsing their menus.

 

Chris settled on a medium rare steak with mashed potatoes, beans, and garden salad. Just then the waiter came up to their table with the wine and beers, placing the beers around the table in front of the guys. He smiled at Chris, eyeing him openly before asking if they were ready to order their meals.

 

Once their orders were placed, the water smirked at Chris and walked away, hips swaying slightly. The table erupted in laughter a minute later, Chris turning red and telling them to shut up.

 

“He was all over you Chris!” Hollered Robert as he wiped his eyes with his hand, still giggling.

 

“If you wanted to leave early then be my guest,” Scarlett winked over at him and took a sip of her wine.

 

“You guys tease to much,” Chris grumbled as he placed his napkin over his lap, the others following his example.

 

“We just love you man, and plus, you’ve never even had so much as a date the whole two years you’ve lived here,” Jeremy looked at him pointedly.

 

“That’s only because no one has caught my attention yet,” he sighed and looked over at Mark for help.

 

“Hey don’t look at me man, these guys are right. Maybe finding someone will be good for you,” Mark shrugged and took a gulp of his drink. Chris groaned at that, everyone thought the same thing and maybe they were right. But Chris wasn’t interested in anyone, he was too busy focusing on his studies and getting through his last year of highschool to put time into crushing on someone. 

 

“Anyways, let’s eat. I’m sure you’re all hungry,” Scarlett picked up her cutlery and began to eat, Jeremy letting out a whoop and digging right in. Robert entertained everyone with stories from parties he attended recently, some events hosted by people his Father worked with or even just parties thrown by teenagers. Either way, some of them were quite hilarious and they all enjoyed themselves.

 

Mark sighed contentedly, “That food was so good.”

 

“The wine was also amazing,” said Chris who placed his napkin down on his place, finishing off the last of his beer.

 

“Any dessert?” Their waiter appeared beside Chris, looking around the table and then stopping to look into Chris’ eyes.

 

“Umm I think we’re good, right guys?” Chris questioned and looked at everyone, noticing they were all grinning creepily. He shot them a look that basically meant don’t say anything unrelated to dessert you little shits.

 

“I think we’re fine,” Scarlett was the one to voice her opinion and got a nod of approval from everyone else. The waiter smiled at her and gathered their dishes with the help of another nearby waiter.

 

“Alright I’ll grab the bill then,” he walked away after that.

 

Scarlett let out a little squeal of delight from their interaction. Chris rolled his eyes and Robert mimicked Scarlett.

 

“Stark, don’t start too,” Chris rubbed jaw and chuckled.

 

The table had another bout of laughter before the waiter came back with bill and bid them a goodnight, winking at Chris as they all stood up to leave. The meal was already charged to Mark’s dad’s credit card so they just left the restaurant, heading to their cars across the parking lot.

 

“Chris!” screamed Mark, “He put his number on the back of the receipt!”

 

Mark shoved the piece of paper into his hands and the group let out a chorus of “ooo”s.

 

“You’re all terrible,” Chris sighed but stuffed the receipt into his pocket anyways. Scarlett gave him a look but Chris just brushed it off and pulled her to his side, arm around her shoulders as she wasn’t wearing a coat.

 

In their group no one was ever jealous of another, they had all they wanted and if someone achieved just a bit more than the other then they were congratulated and praised for their work. Everyone was close enough to share even their darkest secrets and were free to act as they wanted around each other. It wasn’t uncommon that at least two of them in the group had some kind of physical contact going on, like hugging or in this case an arm around a shoulder. Even Jeremy wanted to cuddle with some of them sometimes. Chris liked that his friends never put labels on each other and treated everyone equally, they really were great people and never put themselves above others just because their families have more money than other families. Together they were unstoppable, Chris considered them his apart of his family.

 

They got to their cars and big their goodnights to everyone, giving hugs and the boys gave Scarlett a kiss on the cheek in thanks for planning such a lovely night. Chris shook Robert’s hand then pulled him into a hug, doing the same to Mark and Jeremy after.

 

He got into his jeep and waited until everyone else left, making sure they were all good for the trip back home. As he drove home, Chris kept thinking about that stranger he saw at the party, he’d admittedly been on his mind ever since. There was something about him that seemed familiar yet foreign. It was weird and confused Chris.

 

_ Probably just some  _ _ déjà _ _ vu or whatever.  _ He began to think about what he was going to do tomorrow, his parents were gone for a business trip currently in New York so Chris had the house to himself.

 

The drive home seemed shorter than before and he was suddenly parked in his driveway, turning the car off and stepping out. He remembered to get his bag from the backseat, opening the door and taking it out. He closed the door and locked the car, sorting the keys on his key ring for his house key.

 

He walked up the steps to the front door and unlocked the door, stepping inside the house and flicking the lights on. The lights came on and he looked around the entrance, dropping his keys on the table near the door and took off his shoes, making sure to lock the door after. He threw his bag on the staircase and strided into the large kitchen, strolling around the island and to the fridge. Chris grabbed a bottle of water and closed the fridge, turning back and walking back out of the kitchen. 

 

The living room was his next stop, turning the lights on there and plopping down onto the big brown couch. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels before landing on a sports channel featuring hockey. 

 

“Canadian’s are great,” mumbled  Chris to himself while smiling a little as he set down the remote beside him. He opened up the water bottle and took a few gulps, loving the feeling of water quenching his sudden thirst.

 

After a while, the sounds from the TV were starting to lull him to sleep, Chris felt himself drifting off. Consciousness slipping from him as his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

  
  


_ “Chris, oh my dear Chris.” _

 

_ “Who is that? Where are you?” Chris spoke into the hazy dark of the room. Or maybe he was outside? _

 

_ “Don’t think me a bad person, my love. I’d never hurt you, please don’t leave me Chris,” the voice rang through his ears. Deep, raspy, and emotional. They were crying. _

 

_ “What are you talking about?” he became confused, what was happening? _

 

_ “They keep talking to me, telling me things I don’t want to hear anymore. I hate it, I hate when they begin to speak and it seems like no other sound is present. I drown in their shouts and whispers, their taunts and torments are driving me mad. Do you think me insane?” _

 

_ Chris sighed and gave up trying to figure out what was going on, instead he decided to sit down on what was presumably the ground. _

 

_ “No I do not think you’re insane,” Chris whispered and suddenly felt a cold hand on his cheek, brushing a strand of hair from his face. He oddly didn’t feel startled, he only felt the coldness of the touch move down to trace his lips. A sigh escaped him and he listened to the quiet for a few minutes. _

 

_ “How do I know I’m really not dreaming?” Chris questioned, his sense of what was reality and apart of a dream became blurred.  It all felt so real. _

 

_ Suddenly the cold touch disappeared and Chris stood up. He looked around frantically. _

 

_ “Where did you go? Hello?” He spoke loudly, trying to see something in the darkness. He turned around and found an old red phone sitting on a table a few metres away. _

 

_ It started to ring. _

 

_ Chris tried to walk towards the phone but his knees felt heavy, not wanting to move, weighing him to ground. He fell and tried to stand back up, starting to sweat from how hard this was proving to be. He reached out and grabbed ahold of the table ledge, pulling himself up enough to pick up the phone and bring it to his ear. _

 

_ “We’ll meet again soon my love.” _

 

_ Chris wanted to speak, wanted to ask what that means. But it’s like someone robbed him of his voice. _

 

_ Silence. Then the sound of someone hanging up, the static growing louder each second. _

 

_ It was agonizing, the ringing in his ears from the static became too much to bare. He covered his ears and screamed. Or maybe he didn’t, he doesn’t know anything anymore. Then it all stopped and he fell over. _

 


	2. Blackbird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry this took so long, I meant to post it yesterday but we had a power out yesterday that lasted well into today. This isn't as long as the other one, more of a filler chapter really. I hope you enjoy and once again, sorry for the delay!

Chris woke with a start, his body jolting him up into a sitting position. He breathed heavily and felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck. His knees ached.

He looked around the room, the feeling of someone there washing over him. Chris stood up slowly, cautiously walking to the living room’s entrance. He stepped into the hallway, checking both directions and heading right, quietly stepping down the hallway to the kitchen. Once in the kitchen he made sure the door there was locked, knowing that he locked the front door the previous night.

The feeling slowly dissipated, a sigh of relief escaping from his lips. He went over to the fridge and opened it, seeing not a whole lot of food in there. And they were out of milk.

“Grocery shopping today it is,” Chris murmured as he closed the door.

He checked the time on microwave clock, it was 12:35pm. Chris made his way back into the hallway, to the right then into the living room. Grabbing the remote, he shut the TV off which was on all night. He threw the remote back onto the couch and turned towards the stairs, walking to them and climbing the steps.

His room was at the end of the hallway, the door open and light streaming through the doorway. Chris strolled into his room, not bothering to turn the light on since it was sunny outside and the curtains were pulled back. He took off his clothes, throwing his jacket on the bed as well as the rest of his clothes and the cords around his neck. He walked back out of his room and into the bathroom, taking a quick shower to wash off the sweat from last night.

Once he was done, he made his way back to the room, drying off and choosing his clothes for the day. The plain grey t-shirt fit well over his body, showing off his broad shoulders and strong waist, his light blue jeans sat snugly over his behind. 

Chris combed his hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. He dabbed some cologne on and applied his deodorant, then folded brought his pants and jacket from last night back into the closet as they weren’t dirty and didn’t need to be cleaned yet. After, he took the rest of the previous night’s clothes and threw them into a laundry hamper. Chris grabbed his necklaces from the bed and stood in front of the mirror.

I’ll go for a haircut today too, he thought as he clasped the two leather cords on. He gave himself a once over, nodded, and then got his wallet, striding out of his room and down the hallway to the steps. He ran down the staircase and to the entrance way, slipping on his shoes and taking his keys. The door opened when Chris unlocked it and turned the knob, pulling. A slightly cool breeze drifting over his face. He squinted at the brightness and also grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the small cupboard on the wall above the entrance table.

Chris stepped out of the house and slipped the glasses on, turning around after to close and lock the front door.

The jeep sat in the driveway, Chris made his way towards it and unlocked the doors. He pulled the driver’s door open and hopped in, starting it up and closing the door. He noticed his phone sitting on the passenger seat. I must’ve left it in here by accident, he thought and picked it up, turning it on. It was at 45%, enough to get him through the day.

Chris put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. He began to drive towards the Walmart in his town, it wasn’t far from his house.

The drive was short and before he knew it, he was getting out of his jeep and closing the door.

Striding across the parking lot and into the store, he nodded or smiled at others as they walked in and out of the store.

The doors opened and Chris walked inside, cool breeze greeting him and sending a sudden shiver down his spine. Removing his sunglasses, he headed for the shopping carts, grabbing one before taking off to the produce section. 

He put a few different vegetables and fruits into the cart, wandering through the section and wondering what else was needed. Once it seemed that he had everything he moved on, turning the corner and towards the dairy aisle.

Chris left his cart by the milk at the beginning of the isle, grabbing a jug and placing it carefully in between the fruits and vegetables. He walked down the aisle, looking for the yogurt his mum always buys.

A solid form collided with Chris’ own body, knocking him back a step.

“I’m so sorry,” someone spoke, a British accent gracing his words.

I know that voice, where have I heard this voice from before? Chris glanced up, his eyes meeting arctic blue eyes, smoke grey curling around the iris. Oh shit, I’m totally staring, that’s creepy of me, Chris directed his eyes to the man’s lips which were pouty, beautiful and rosy.

And I’m staring again.

“Are you alright?” The gorgeous man in front of him chuckled and ran long fingers through his black hair.

“Oh, yes, I-I’m quite alright thank you,” Chris stammered out, heat rising to his cheeks from embarrassment. The man smiled at the other whose head was bowed and rubbing his neck anxiously. Chris looked up again and smiled back.

“Once again, I’m terribly sorry for running into you, but it was nice meeting you…” The blue-eyed stranger trailed off, lifting a brow and grinning.

“Uhh, Chris. Chris Hemsworth,” he announced, hand reaching out to shake the other man’s in greeting.

“Tom Hiddleston,” Tom shook Chris’ large calloused hand, his elegant fingers firmly gripping Chris’ palm. He spoke again, voice smooth and mellow, “it was indeed very nice to meet you.”

Chris blushed again, recognizing the repetition of his statement as a compliment.

“Farewell Mr. Hemsworth. I hope we have the chance to meet again in the future,” Tom let go of the large hand belonging to Chris, smirked, and then strided down and out of the aisle.

“Bye..” trailed Chris just above a whisper of bewilderment. He stood in the middle of the aisle, eyes trained on the spot where the man’s, Tom’s, head of sleek, dark hair and thin form disappeared behind a row of tall shelves. Chris thought about the encounter he just had, a strange feeling washing over him. A strange, yet familiar, feeling. And oh how lovely that Tom Hiddleston was, his sophisticated presence and sharp gaze stealing the breathe right out of Chris’ lungs. Beautiful in the way he spoke, accent bringing an attractive air to his wonderful, slightly raspy, voice.

The sound of his ringtone (Dancing Queen by Abba—a fond inside joke he shared with his dear friends) woke him from his daze, the song playing loudly which earned him a few looks from strangers that had wandered into this section. He looked down at his pocket and quickly brought his phone out, accepting the call after seeing it was his mum that was calling him.

“Hey mum!” Chris managed to get out, his mother greeting him and asking the usual questions she tended to ask when his father and her were away: how are you, is there enough money for food, how is school, how are your friends, are you ok, and many more. Chris found it comforting knowing that his parents made sure to check in with him whenever they could. He chuckled and listened to her rant about how boring the trip has been for them so far.

“Mum, I’m in the middle of grocery shopping,” Chris spoke once it sounded like his mother finished talking, “I have to go, these grocery’s aren’t going to buy themselves.”

“If they tried they probably could,” Chris’ mum giggled and Chris heard her shout the joke to his father who sighed deeply in the background as she laughed again.

“Well if you tried to make your jokes funnier…” Chris snorted and covered his mouth.

“Christopher! Don’t tease me, I’m getting better at it you have to admit,” she scoffed.

“Yeah, well, I still have to go. I love you mum! Tell dad I love him too! Stay safe and call when you have the chance to,” Chris smiled and turned to walk towards the yogurt section, resuming his search.

“Yes, yes. Love you too darling. Gosh, you sound so grown up,” his mother said, voice soft with affection for her son.

Rolling his eyes, Chris gave his last goodbye and hung up. His phone was placed into his back pocket and he stepped over slowly, eyeing the labels.

Finally he found the yogurt, tucked away at the end. He grabbed a couple small tubs of it, then headed back to his cart where he placed them in the metal carrier.

Chris strolled out of the aisle, continuing his shopping. He picked up some popcorn, frozen fruits, meat, beverages and a movie to watch later.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Chris froze, hearing someone behind the shelf he was standing in front of, looking over more movies. He peeked through an opening, realizing it was probably rude to eavesdrop but wanting to figure out who was on the other side. There Tom stood, a black phone pressed to his ear and a scowl covering his beautiful features. Kind blue eyes now turned cobalt and stormy with anger. It was like looking at a different person.

“No, don’t do anything. Father could’ve found out something was off you fool, just—stop telling me what to say—just stay calm and act as if everything is fine, I’ll be back shortly,” Tom hissed out and ended the call, shoving his pocket into his coat forcefully.

The sound of a movie case hitting the concrete floor broke the stiff silence, Chris jumping and picking it up quickly, hoping Tom didn’t see him. When he stood back up, he peered through the shelf and didn’t see anyone there. Chris breathed a sigh of relief and disappointment. Relieved that Tom probably didn’t see him and disappointed because Tom seemed so nice before, his smile warming Chris’ blood. He admits that the phone call was indeed strange, everything terribly off, but it could be nothing. A family problem was Chris’ guess.

He ventured around his mind, deep in thought as he made his way towards the tills. The journey was short and soon Chris was unloading his things onto the counter, making small talk with the older woman working the register. She commented on how much he looked like her late husband, smiling distantly and then helping Chris bag everything before he paid and bid her a good day.

He rolled the cart full of bags out to his jeep, the afternoon still in full swing and the sun shining down from its highest point. Chris unlocked his jeep and opened the back door, placing all the bags inside. He put his sunglasses back on and closed the door.

The shopping cart was put away with others in a small section outside the store, Chris’ long legs taking him there and back quickly. He climbed into his car, door slamming shut once his legs were tucked into the space under the steering wheel. The jeep started up with a purr and Chris was driving out of the parking lot after a quick text to Jeremy, asking if he wanted to stay the night.

The barber shop was his next destination. It was in the area as most shops were found here at Cornerstone Shopping district. He passed a few stores and fast food places, making a mental note to go grab something to eat after his haircut.

Once he saw the sign and found a parking space, he got out of his jeep and locked the doors, keys tucked into his front pocket. Chris ambled up to the front doors, humming a random tune stuck in his head. The rush of cool air felt nice on his face as he stepped into the barber shop, smiling at the man standing at the counter.

“Hi, I was wondering if you did walk-ins?” Chris asked, brows furrowed in question.

“Yes we do, could I get a name and chosen service?” the man requested politely and obviously eyeing Chris.

Chris shifted, feeling a bit uncomfortable under such a scrutinizing gaze. Chris smiled tightly at him, “Chris Hemsworth, and just a haircut please.”

“Alright take a seat,” he said, typing something out and then heading behind a couple shelves blocking the view of the barbers at work.

He sat down, looking around at the posters on the wall and deciding how short he wanted to cut his hair. It had grown quite quickly, his blond locks reaching past his shoulders by the start of school a month ago. He had let it grow out during the summer but made the impromptu decision to cut it before it began to get colder.

“Chris?”

Looking over to where the voice came from, he saw a tall dark skinned man standing in the opening of the shelves, beckoning him over.

“Hello Chris, my name is Idris and I’ll be your barber today,” Idris told Chris, voice deep and calm as he lead him to a seat in front of a mirror. Chris grinned, liking this guy more than the other one he encountered at the front. He had a kind face and a relaxing aura around him.

“So, what were we thinking of?” Idris looked at Chris in the mirror, swinging a cape onto him and buttoning it together at the back of the neck.

“Umm, I think a crew cut,” Chris nodded and leaned back in the chair.

“That’s a lot of hair,” chuckled Idris.

Chris sighed and laughed, “Exactly why I want it cut.”

Idris set to work, both of them chatting and laughing while he grabbed his electric hair clipper. He brought it to Chris head, chuckling out a “you ready?” to which Chris nodded and watched as his long hair was shaved off.

**

Chris ran his hand through his now shorter hair, shaved on the sides and getting a bit longer towards the top.

He was now at home, arriving here shortly after paying for his haircut and leaving the shopping district. The groceries were hauled in and put away in their respected places, cupboards and fridge stocked again. Chris checked the time on the microwave, not believing it was already 6 in the evening.

The sun was about an hour off from the beginning of dusk, sky turning an orange hue but still blue on the east side. The kitchen windows let the light in, Chris enjoying watching the sun begin to set, orange washing over his figure. He stood there, staring out the window and thinking.

The doorbell rang, three loud knocks cracking through his thoughts. 

“Hang on!” Chris shouted as he jogged his way to the door, swinging it open to find Jeremy’s smiling face.

“Hey best buddy, I got us pizza!” Jeremy cried and shoved past Chris, kicking his shoes off and heading into the living room where he placed the pizza on the coffee table before throwing himself onto the couch.

Chris closed the door and wandered after his friend, snorting and shaking his head, “Sure just make yourself at home.”

“Did that years ago buddy,” Jeremy grinned at him then sat up, “What movie are we watching tonight chief?”

“Terrifier, that creepy clown movie you wanted to watch a while ago,” Chris turned to the movie shelf which was full of different kinds of shows. He browsed through the shelf where he remembered he put his newly bought movie, sliding it out of its place and taking the plastic off after locating it.

“Ooo, yes! I’ve wanted to watch this so badly! Apparently one of the girls gets sawed in half from her vag—” Jeremy started before Chris clapped a hand over his mouth.

“And I’ll stop you right there mate, you’re always spoiling it even before you have watched it,” Chris complained, letting go of Jeremy’s face and backed up to the dvd player, turning around and placing the disc on the tray.

“I don’t always spoil movies,” his friend grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting like a child.

Chris pushed in the tray, sighing loudly, “Just eat your pizza.”

He plopped down on the couch next to his friend, taking a slice of pizza after Jeremy opened the box and took his own piece.

The movie began, Chris and Jeremy enjoying their pizza and watching the horrors happen on the screen with wide eyes, figuring out quite quickly that this was a gory movie. By the end of it, Jeremy looked a bit pale.

“Fucking pussy,” Chris doubled over in laughter after his best friend told him he was scared to look out the window now.

“Shut your whore mouth Chris,” Jeremy pointed at Chris.

Rolling his eyes, Chris stood up. Jeremy smirked and launched himself on Chris’ back, his sudden weight sending Chris to the floor with a loud thud. Both boys laughed and grunted, beginning to wrestle around on the hardwood floor.

“Say Uncle!”

“Piss off!”

Chris had Jeremy in a chokehold, his biceps cutting off Jeremy’s air. Jeremy remained quiet for a few seconds before screaming out a strained “uncle”. Chris let go and Jeremy rolled over, coughing and wheezing out coarse sounding laughs.

Getting up, Chris offered his hand to Jeremy who took it, pulling him up and onto his feet.

“Jesus dude, it’s like you’re made of pure muscle,” his friend patted him on the back, dropping back onto the couch.

“Everyone has muscle Jeremy, except you,” Chris teased and darted out of the living room before Jeremy could reply, “I’ll grab us some water!”

He made his way into the kitchen, stepping over to the fridge and pulling out two water bottles. He opened one and started to drink but was stopped when he heard his friend call out to him from the living room.

“Chris, there’s a black van parked outside your house...I think there’s people in it.”


	3. At The Bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I’m so sorry for this late chapter but I really hope you enjoy! Also, sorry again, I feel like this isn’t very good haha
> 
> If there’s any mistakes please let me know!!

Chris ran to the living room, water bottles forgotten on the counter. He stopped next to Jeremy who was leaning over the back of the couch, peering out the window into the darkness. Jeremy pointed at where the van was parked, Chris squinting to see it.

Sure enough, a black van was sitting in front of his house. 

“Where’s the people?” Chris questioned, trying to spot any movement.

“I saw it move. How long do you think they’ve been there?” Jeremy looked over at Chris, brows furrowed. He shrugged in response and was suddenly surprised to see a bright flash come from the driver’s window before it started up and took off down the road, headlights turning on before the van disappeared around the corner.

Jeremy gasped then let out a long “yoooo!”, shaking Chris and in the next moment flying off the couch. 

“What the fuck dude! Did you see that?! Police! We need to call the police!” Jeremy was running all over the living room, arms waving around with a crazy look on his face.

“Calm down, calm down! We don’t need to call the police man! You’re just overreacting. I’m sure that wasn’t anything, we’re fine—Jeremy put down the goddamn phone,” Chris stood and took the phone from Jeremy, throwing it on the couch. He placed his hands on Jeremy’s shoulders and looked into his eyes, eyebrows raised.

“Chill out.”

“Ok, ok. Sorry I’m just—that was—what was that?” Jeremy shook Chris’ hands off and brought his own hand up to his chin, teeth digging into his lip.

“It was probably nothing and we’re overreacting,” Chris turned to look out the window.

But even as he spoke those words, he felt as if something wasn’t right. His stomach was filled with uneasiness and worry, his mind handing him thought after thought of different possibilities as to what just happened and why. Calling the police wasn’t something Chris wanted to do, it would cause a scene and if his parents found out they’d stress about it and overdo it. So he just shook his head to clear out his mind, pivoted back to face Jeremy, and smiled.

“Well, now that that’s over, want to play a video game?”

**

Jeremy rolled over, his snores continuing on into Chris’ ear. Chris rubbed his eyes, his palms cool against the warmth of his face. He’d woken up not long ago, a thin layer of cold sweat covering his body and a feeling of fear dissolving from his senses, confusion stepping up to replace it. A nightmare fading from his mind, darkness and a deep accented voice letting him go. His friend remained asleep, snoring and clutching a pillow in his arms. Chris rolled his eyes, Jeremy was starting to annoy him.

Chris rolled over to face away from his friend, staring at the wall and trying to remember his dream that was now completely forgotten. He lied awake for some time, the wall appearing to move once in a while when he didn’t blink. Finally Chris got up, bored of the game his mind loved to play where it kept him right on the edge of sleep, letting him tip towards the abyss slightly then pulling him back. 

He tried to keep his footsteps quiet as he stumbled to the hallway, not wanting to wake an unconscious Jeremy. 

The lucky bastard.

Making his way down the hallway, Chris noticed the downstairs light was on. He stopped just before the stairs, head tilting as he tried to recall if he left them on or not. Chris came to the conclusion that he turned them off, and the more he thought of it, the more positive he became.

Chris cautiously descended, watching his surroundings and listening intently to any noise. He walked over to the front door, checking to see that it was, indeed, locked. Chris then ventured around the house, still alert and careful. Everything seemed okay, until he checked the kitchen’s door.

Unlocked.

He cursed and then locked it, moving the blinds to peer outside where he saw the backyard and stars over the fence. He stepped back from the door and brought a hand up to his jaw, thick fingers rubbing over day old stubble.

At least nothing was stolen, Chris thought, wait no, don’t even start thinking that someone was in here in the first place. Stop freaking yourself out, mate.

He shook his head and turned to go back to his room, the house seeming quieter than before.

Once Chris was in his room again he climbed back into bed beside Jeremy, who was now sprawled out like an eagle in flight. Chris kicked his friend’s limbs out of the way to find a comfortable position where he faced the wall again. A wave of drowsiness sweeping over him brought his senses back down to a buzzing calmness, his head telling him that nothing happened and it was okay to fall asleep.

To finally tip over the edge.

**

Chris’ eyes fluttered open, his brain registering the feeling of something heavy on his jaw. He groaned and lifted a hand up to remove whatever was on his face. The weight was gone once Chris picked up the object, which turned out to be Jeremy’s hand. He squinted at it and then looked over to his friend.

Jeremy’s hand had been holding Chris’ chin for a while now from what Chris could tell, his jaw sore from the added weight. He rubbed it with his other hand then placed Jeremy’s hand beside him, sitting up and letting out a huff. 

After a couple minutes of lazy stretching, Chris finally stood up. The thought of going for a run right now seemed even less appealing than it usually did, his mind foggy and body still feeling like he was asleep. 

As much as I love running for sport, running for fun always seems too hard, Chris giggled, realizing how his thoughts never made sense in the morning, But hey at least I’m buff as fuck.

“What in God’s name are you saying? Who are you even talking to?”

Chris whirled around, startled by the rough voice behind him. 

“Just Jeremy,” he muttered.

“You’re such a weirdo in the mornings whenever I’m here,” Jeremy snorted, “And yea, you said all that out loud just now.”

Chris shrugged and walked out of his room, still facing Jeremy who was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“What can you do about morning madness, huh crusty?” Chris laughed and was met with a pillow smacking him in the face.

“Just go and cook food or something, I’ll be down in a minute. I really need to pee,” Jeremy called, the last part coming out as an outspoken thought. Chris chuckled and turned, continuing on his journey to the kitchen.

The air conditioning blowing out of the vents and through the house were slowly waking him up, his breaths becoming more normal paced than before, heartbeat starting to pick up from its sleepily slow pace.

The kitchen’s windows gave Chris a view of the fading night, the once black sky retreating to the other side of the world where a deep blue now flowed in. Welcoming the day.

He flicked on the lights, illuminating the granite countertops and island where the box of pizza was thrown.

I told that lazy dude to throw it in the recycling, Chris thought as he shook his head and did it himself.

Once the box was thrown away, Chris gathered all the ingredients to make pancakes, not caring how terribly cliché making them for breakfast was. He started preparing the batter right as Jeremy pranced in, still in pj’s (though Chris was too so he didn’t judge) and incredibly endearing bed-messed hair.

Wait, back up, did I really think he looks adorable? Like no jokes or whatever? And why am I talking to myself like this?

“Hello? Earth to Chris? Jeez man, you’re really weird in the mornings,” Jeremy waved his hand in front of Chris’ eyes.

“Shut up and man the pancake flipper,” Chris tossed the spatula at him and grabbed a ladle once the batter was finished being mixed. 

Jeremy and Chris joked around as they made the pancakes, Jeremy trying to replicate a vine he saw, which ended terribly. He tried to flip it in the air but instead got smacked in the face with the hot pancake. Chris has never laughed so hard before, grabbing onto the counter for support as his abdomen cramped up. Tears were streaming down his face as Jeremy yelled.

After the boys had calmed down and the rest of the breakfast had been made, they sat down at the island. The bar stools were tall so Chris always ended up hunched over his plate. Jeremy and Chris had little conversation, the two of them enjoying the silence.

“Hey, think you could give me a ride home soon? My mom drove me here and i have an essay I need to finish,” Jeremy asked, looking over at Chris who had just put down his fork.

“Sure, but you really should do your homework before coming over,” Chris shook his head and smirked.

“I’m a procrastinator, it’s what I do baby!” Jeremy got up and walked over to the sink, placing his plate in, “Besides, it’s just a book review or whatever, easy peasy lemon squeezy.”

Chris raised an eyebrow and did the same as Jeremy, promising himself that he would do the dishes later. 

Jeremy ran upstairs to get his things and Chris headed to the front, slipping on his shoes and grabbing the keys for his jeep. He realized that he was still in his pajamas.

Who cares, I’ll only be dropping Jeremy off, Chris thought, opening the door and strolling to his car. He hopped in and started it, waiting for Jeremy.

A second later, Jeremy bolted out the door, slamming it behind him and rushing to the car.

“Dude I thought you left me,” he exclaimed as he closed the jeep door, strapping himself in.

“The only reason I’m leaving my house is because of you,” Chris retorted as he began backing out of the driveway, head turning to watch from the mirrors.

“Ha, true,” Jeremy laughed, pulling out his phone. He began playing a game, little electronic pings! popping out of the speaker.

Chris rolled his eyes and turned on the radio, some old song playing. He tapped his hand on the wheel to the beat of the music, recognizing it from when he was younger. 

The drive to Jeremy’s was mostly silent, except when Katy Perry came on, Jeremy screaming the lyrics to ‘Firework’. He danced around in his seat and waved his hands in the air, Chris rolling his eyes again but began singing along with his friend.

Suddenly, Jeremy shut the radio off, looking at Chris with a panicked look.

“There’s a black van following us. I think it’s the same one from last night,” he whispered.

Chris quickly looked in the rearview mirror, spotting the van more than 10 feet away. It was rolling along the street, slower than they were but keeping a reasonable distance. Nervousness flooded his belly, making his brain stop.

He decided to take a left, Jeremy shooting him a questioning glance mixed with worry.

“I’m just going to try something,” Chris assured him.

He took 3 more lefts, driving in a circle.

The van was still following.

“Well, I’m not driving you to your house ‘cause that would make me stupid,” Chris attempted to joke, “so we’ll go to a busy store nearby.”

After a few minutes of anxiety buzzed silence, they arrived in the busier part of town, the stores packed with people.

‘Thank god it’s crowded today,” Jeremy looked out the window.

Chris parked in front of some store, stopping the car and climbing out, waiting for his friend before heading into the shop. 

Jeremy looked back, seeing the black van slowly drive past the jeep, the sunlight bouncing off the opaque windows. He spun his head back and began to rub his hands together, feeling jumpy.

The cool air greeted the two as they swung the doors open, heading to some random aisle.

“Just call your mom to come get you, it will be safer,” Chris told Jeremy. He nodded and took out his phone again, dialing his mom’s number and waiting for her to pick up.

He began talking once she picked up, explaining the situation and hanging up after a few minutes.

“She’s on her way, you should really call the police,” he told Chris, eyes filled with concern.

All Chris did was just nod and place a hand on his friend’s shoulder, waiting with him for Jeremy’s mom.

Once she arrived, the boys walked out and she ran over, giving them each a hug and telling Chris to talk to the police as soon as possible.

“There could be something going on,” she said, staring at Chris. He just nodded again.

Jeremy and his mom left, Chris climbed back into his jeep and started it quickly, leaving the busy area. He went faster than he was supposed to, wanting to go home and contact the police in the safety of his house.

Why didn’t I listen to Jeremy and call them last night? He scolded himself and made it home.

Shutting the vehicle off, he got out and closed the door, locking it and running up to the front door of his house. He knew Jeremy left it unlocked so he opened the door and stepped in. He briskly closed the door, locking it right after.

Chris went around the house, making sure everything was locked. He decided to close the blinds, for good measure.

He made his way to the phone in the living room, standing in front of it, fingers twitching. He tore it off the dock, pressing the 3 buttons. The beeps seemed loud in the deafening stillness.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The operator spoke.

“Hi, um yea..I want to report a stalker? Or multiple? Yeah, my friend and I were being watched it seems last night at my house, there was a black van parked right outside. And today the same black van was following us when I went to bring my friend home, I drove in a circle, around a block, and it was still following us,” Chris rambled into the phone, his hand running through his hair.

“Where is your friend now?” They questioned, keyboard clacks coming through the speaker.

“We went into a store and called his mom who came to pick him up. I went back home, where I am now. My parents aren’t here, they won’t be home for another week,” he told the operator then began chewing his nails, the nerves bringing back the old habit.

“What’s your name and address?” The operator asked.

“Chris Hemsworth, my address is 110 19 Ave Northeast,” Chris told them.

“Ok well, I’ll send an officer out, he’ll be there in about 15 minutes,” they replied a moment later, voice calm and steady, unlike Chris’ heart which seemed to be beating a mile per minute.

“Thank you,” Chris squeaked out, feeling small and worried, regretting not doing anything about the situation earlier. 

It was always like this for him. The need to please people and cause no trouble consuming him often, sinking sharp teeth in and locking him in strong jaws. Always afraid of judgment and disappointment. His anxieties grew over the years like a fire slowly coming to life, flames rising and licking at the base of his throat. 

He put down the phone after hanging up, standing in the middle of the living room for a minute before turning. He stepped towards the kitchen, hands twisting together nervously. 

15 minutes passed painfully slow, Chris’ thoughts running around his head, strong emotions pushing at the wall he put up. A defence mechanism really.

A shark knock sounded from the front door, three thumps against the hard, dark wood.

Chris jolted up out of his chair and hurried to the door, swinging it open once he was able to grasp and turn the doorknob.

“Good afternoon, I’m officer Stan,” the man in front of him stared at him with a sharp gaze, eyes a cold mix of blue and green. He was...unsettling to Chris. His voice low and smooth, but hinting at a tone that seemed off. His whole being seemed off.

Chris shook his head lightly, convincing himself that it was just his worried getting to him, the fright giving him reasons to doubt his own safety with an officer standing before him.

“Hi, yes, I just called to, uhh, make a report of a stalking,” Chris fumbled over his words, officer Stan’s stare never once faltering from Chris’ own eyes. Chilling his core. He realized it was probably rude to leave the man standing out on his doorstep, but he didn’t feel comfortable letting him inside of the house, his gut telling him something was wrong.

“Alright well, tell me everything that has happened and I’ll write up a report,” the officer said, pulling out a black notebook from his pocket.

And that’s how the next few minutes went. Chris told him everything that had happened, finally pushing past the anxiety and ignoring the feelings of worry. He needed to get it out of his system, needed to try and help himself out of a bad situation before it got even worse. After he was done recalling the events to officer Stan, he nodded once and brought his hand up to his jaw, rubbing the small amount of stubble growing there. The officer finished writing and looked back up at Chris, but before his eyes could meet Chris’, Chris looked away. 

“Ok, that’s about it then?” Officer Stan asked, looking up to Chris, his face void of emotion like before. Chris nodded to his question and placed his hand on the door, ready to close it. Wanting to walk away from those emotionless eyes.

“I’ll be leaving then, good day.”

The way he said it was unnerving to Chris, wishing him a ‘good day’ in such a dead tone. Chris nodded once again and closed the door. 

A second later, Chris realized that the officer hadn’t even shown him his badge. There wasn’t even a name tag on his jacket. He turned back to the door with wide eyes, beginning to question a lot of things.

The encounter with the strange officer left him shaken. A little voice in his head whispered nothing was right. It whispered something was going to happen whether he could help it or not.


	4. Daisy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man it’s been so long! I’m really sorry for the super slow updates but I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

Screaming. Always screaming inside his head. Never his own.. Other voices, much more sinister voices. Screaming. Always screaming at him.

 

_ “It’s your fucking fault!” _

 

_ “Stupid little boy! Can’t you do anything right?!” _

 

_ “Your own father can’t even stand looking at you. Can’t even speak to his greatest mistake and biggest disappointment.” _

 

_ “Shouldn’t have killed poor pretty mummy then, hmm?” _

 

But he remained blank. Removed his emotion from his features. Refusing to give in again. Refusing to dig up his pain and face it. Because this was safe. Putting his wall up, blocking himself from  _ feeling  _ again. He was safe from it all. For now.

 

Tom knew what he needed to do. He knew what his father needed him to do. And he intended to show his father exactly the kind of man he wanted him to be. That’s why he also knew he needed to be clever. Making an appearance for the Hemsworth boy—a handsome young man, skin smooth enough to bite—and also getting his men to follow him around a bit. Scare him, fill his veins with enough paranoia to really set him on edge. Make him vulnerable to Tom’s hold.

 

Sebastian Stan was something he threw in there last minute, the old uniform the (now dead) officer wore looked like it needed to be tried out. Taken for a joy ride.

 

Tom liked Sebastian, he admired him quietly, watching him from afar. Enjoying his tense silence whenever he made eye contact with Tom. But also enjoying the low moans he sometimes let out when Tom trailed a hand discreetly down his inner thigh. Teasing him. Oh, how he wanted to make him let go of his quiet demeanour.

 

But he had to be careful. Didn’t he always have to be? Always have to tiptoe around a father who would surely love to get rid of his disaster of a son?

 

Tom let out a long sigh, bringing a hand up to rub his face, week-old stubble rasping against his palm. He was getting tired of his father and the little “game” they always played. Tom had just come out of a meeting with his father and his colleagues, his father putting on a little show of a man proud of his son and all the work he’d done so far. It made Tom angry to know that it was just a lie. But, of course, he had to sit there and smile, nodding along and keeping fairly quiet. 

 

He thought back to all the older men in the room, staring him down with different looks in their eyes. Some had doubt, a few had anger, and others had lust. He remembers being young, in his preteen years, and how his father made fun of him for being so skinny, so small, so  _ feminine.  _ He remembers how other men, probably in their early 20’s, had offered to buy him and make him their pretty little wife. 

 

But that’s when Tom remembers his mother coming into play, breaking up Tom and his father’s game. Where she always stepped up from being usually quiet when watching over father’s business meets, defending him. She would glare hard at the young man who made “such an atrocious comment” —a s he once heard her say to his father in his study later on — her eyes lit with rage and hate. She would straighten her back and thrust a finger forward, her long red painted nail pointed between the sick man’s eyes. Tom will always remember what she said every time this ordeal happened. 

 

“My son is not yours to have. He is not yours to own. My baby doesn’t  _ need  _ a disgusting man like you controlling his life.”

 

Then she would stand up, walk away from the plush couches and sleek coffee table, grab Tom’s hand and pull him away from where he was sitting by the door, watching quietly. She’d lead him out and to the kitchen where she would let out an angry huff, face red and eyebrows scrunched together. Tom would look up at her and purse his lips, worry setting into his eyes for he never understood why the men wanted him or what they even meant at all. His mother would kneel in front of him, placing her hands on his upper arms and crack a small smile. “Want to bake something with me, darling?” She always asked after a minute of her stroking his blond, unruly curls away from is face. The answer was always a murmured yes, his head nodding and a grin appearing on his youthful face.

 

That’s really his only clear memory of her. He can sometimes picture her face, slim and sharp, eyes like his and thin but beautiful red lips, her cheekbones high and framed by blonde hair. She was the most extraordinary woman he’d ever known. But remembering other things about her became harder and harder. He was heartbroken when he realized that his memories of her kept disappearing, his mind shoving things out to make room for the Others. 

 

Tom shook his head, not wanting to keep thinking about all of this. 

 

He started walking down the long hallway of their home, hidden deep in the forest. Doors lined the walls, each leading to some kind of room or other hallways. How he managed to not get lost, he didn’t even know. 

 

The green from the trees lay behind the glass pane of the window, extravagant crimson drapes hiding most of the view. Tom liked it out here. He liked the ancient vibe it gave, the house actually being pretty old. He remembers running through these halls as a boy, soaring past all the golds, browns and reds, watching the colours blur together. Like a painting. He wanted to feel like that young, bubbly boy again.

 

Tom felt himself start to pick up the pace, legs moving faster. He suddenly took off in a sprint, grinning like a child. He ran down the hallway he was previously walking on before taking a sharp left, bouncing off the corner of the wall. Laughter bubbled out of his chest. No one down the east wing —his wing— for miles. He ran and ran and  _ ran _ for what seemed like forever. The tall french doors at the end of this shorter hallway stood staring at him. He could see the trees outside, wind blowing the leaves around, light reflecting. Tom reached out and grabbed both handles once he came crashing to the end, pushing down on them and swinging the doors wide open. A strong gust of air washed over him. A strong pull of freedom. If not only for a little while.

 

The white stone steps lead down to a small clearing surrounded by towering stone walls covered in vines. Tom leaped down said steps and breathed in the fresh air, lungs burning with the need for oxygen. He slowly walked to the middle of the clearing where a big, flat rock sat comfortably on the earth. Sitting down on it, he then laid himself down, staring up at the grey sky.

 

Relief. Freedom. Open. Quiet. Calm.  _ Beautiful _ . 

 

No voices. No one trying to control him. No violence. No emptiness. No feelings of being locked up in a stupid meeting where stupid men and his stupid father try to get him to do their stupid dirty work.

 

Just him. Just him in this safe place. Guarded by strong standing walls and warmly enveloped by sturdy trees, the branches swaying in the fairly strong gusts of wind; this place tucked away from the rest of the house. His secret as no one has been here for years, his father and everyone else probably forgotten it once Tom inherited the entire east wing. 

 

Here, Tom could breathe.

 

He watches the grey of the atmosphere, one long blanket of clouds laying over top of him. He lay there for a long time, the sky quickly beginning to darken, the smell of rain hanging in the air.

 

Tom wasn’t needed for the rest of the afternoon, the meeting lasting well into 2 o’clock as the grandfather clock let everyone know. “You’re free for the rest of the day.” Tom’s father grunted out, already strutting out of the conference room. Tom could care less where the old man was headed.

 

Soon enough, rain started to fall. Drops landing on his cheeks, under his tired eyes and sinking into his hair. His eyelashes fluttered. Pale skin welcoming the rain.

 

Thunder rumbled through the dark sky. Tom gasped. He felt it roll over his being. Lungs full. Mind open. Lightning crashed, deep purple and startling blue flashed before his eyes. Reminding him of a certain boy, voice low like the thunder and eyes electric blue. The image of him looking up at Tom, cheeks flushed once their eyes met, keeps replaying in Tom’s mind. It’s been two days since he saw Chris.

 

“Christopher…” Tom whispered, the name rolling off his tongue. Sweet. Like honey.

 

Another flash lit up the world, electricity filling the space up. He waited with bated breath for the rumbling, a smile full of everything pure graced his lips as he heard it. Vibrations coursing deep in his chest. Heart slowing.

 

The rock he was laying on became cold and wet, soaking Tom’s back and making him shiver. His clothes were stuck to his lean body, white button up shirt clinging to his skin. 

 

In moments like these, he can let himself believe he is ok. He is pure. He is forgiven. 

 

Tom closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. More flashes, more thunder. Eyes taking in the different colours behind his eyelids. Purple. Blue. White. It’s all so lifting and serene. He feels weightless. 

 

A sob escapes his throat, wind picking up and rain falling harder. The storm is growing. Taking Tom’s feelings of... _ of everything _ . Everything that made him feel small, unwanted, heavy, angry, alone. The tears come and he doesn’t even try to stop them. He allows himself this. Taking this chance to let everything out in his own private corner.

 

He spreads his arms, head tilted back. Vulnerable to the universe. Vulnerable to the storm. He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. And he’s scared. Always scared that a moment like this will never come again. Feeling trapped all the time. The Others always there, suffocating him. 

 

So, Tom cries harder. Wanting to get everything out. Give everything to the storm. He sits up suddenly, hot tears still trailing down his cheeks. He stands quickly and kicks his shoes off, taking his socks off right after. Grounding himself on the rock, feeling the solid connection to the Earth. He looked up and witnessed a violent strike of lightning light up the clouds, his eyes capturing the reflection in his tears. A few seconds pass and Tom throws his arms out, an urge building up.

 

Thunder tumbles and crashes. Loud and forceful. Shaking the scream out of Tom. He yells up at the sky, neck veins straining against his skin, skin becoming flushed. It feels good. His shout gets swallowed up by the thunder and the rolling clouds. When it stops, so does Tom with heavy breaths. His shoulders sag, smile growing again. His hands shake with adrenaline.

 

The pouring rain turns to a drizzle and then stops altogether. The storm is over.

 

Tom steps down from the hard rock and onto the damp grass. He calmly grabs his shoes and socks but doesn’t bother to put them on. One last look around the space. Silent goodbye to the trees and the comforting walls. He stares at the rock, sniffs once, twice, then turns and walks up the stairs to the still open doors. The tile is slippery where the rain drifted in. Tom carefully avoids falling and shuts the doors behind him.

 

The walk to his room seems like it takes forever. It’s really only one hallway away.

 

The door creaks loudly as he pushes on it. Light fills the room when Tom hits the switch. His bed calls to him, his tired body aching. The bottom of his feet are dirty, dried grass and dirt sticking on stubbornly. But Tom could care less right now. All he wants is sleep.

 

_ “Ah, ah, ah pretty boy, don’t think we’re not done with you yet.” _

 

_ “Yeah, neat trick by the way. Blocking us out like that.” _

 

_ “You really think he’s the one who could do that? He’s too pathetic to even try.” _

 

_ “You’re right it must have been the storm. No way our little Tommy could do anything close to that.” _

 

Tom groaned, hands flying up to his head. He gripped the sides and dug his fingers in. Wants to rip out the voices. Wants to get rid of the Others.

 

Voices started flooding into his mind, angry and loud. Yelling at him, telling him that next time he tries to make them leave, they’ll make him  _ hurt _ . 

 

He goes blank.

 

Everything clears his body. All except the Others. His face goes slack; emotionless. His back straightens out, shoulders tensing and hands stilling beside him. Thoughts leave his brain. Except for one: “I really thought I would have had a longer time before this. I really thought I wouldn’t relapse like this so soon.”

 

Then that thought is sunken too. Drowned out by voices swarming around his head. It’s too much. Too much for him to handle. But he has to. And that’s what makes him, well, him. Always has to put up with them. Always has to listen and  _ hurt _ . His father once told him they will make him stronger. He told him to “stop being such a crybaby about it and grow up, learn to take some fucking punishment and criticism stupid boy!”

 

He was fourteen when his father told him that. A child who needed  _ help  _ and  _ support _ . Not a harsh scream and an even harsher slap to the face. He wished mother was there to hold him after he had cried for hours alone in his room.

 

That was 9 years ago. The first and last time he ever told anyone about the Others. The first and last time he actually even shared anything about himself and his well-being with his father. He really is pathetic.

 

Tom drops his shoes by the door, closing it and walking over to his bathroom. He unbuttons his shirt, pulling it off his slender shoulders. Dropping it with a wet  _ smack _ . His pants go next, belt buckle clinking as he unclasps it. Button, zipper, slide down long, pale legs along with his underwear. Watch taken off slowly, placed softly on the counter next to the sink. He keeps his silver chain on, the one his mother got him a long, long time ago.

 

Standing naked in the middle of his bathroom, Tom turns to the mirror. It’s more like a wall made of mirror. His mirror wall. His eyes trail over his body, taking in his figure. He’s slim but not unhealthy looking. He notices he gained some muscle on his arms, chest, stomach and legs. He brought a finger to his neck and slowly, gently, placed it on his skin. He lowered his finger. Brushing over a collarbone. Making its way down his chest and over his abdomen. A shiver.

 

He stops before his hips. 

 

_ “Such an ugly fucking body.” _

 

_ “Disgusting.” _

 

_ “Not good enough.” _

 

_ “Worthless piece of shit.” _

 

Tom feels his lip quiver. He quickly stops it.

 

He turns to the bath, padding towards it and turning the faucet on. Hot water pours out, steam lazily beginning to rise. And so, he waits. 

 

The bath fills up quickly, white porcelain tub holding it all. Tom turns it off and lifts a leg, letting it dip into the steamy water. His sigh fills the bathroom.

 

Water sloshes over the rim as he lowers himself into the tub, puddling near the golden claw feet of the bath. The lights are low and warm, casting an angelic glow over the whole room. He leans back and closes his eyes. Listening to the Others. Whispering at the back of his mind. Then, Tom begins to think of Christopher.

 

He thinks back to full lips and straight teeth, angled slightly inwards. Strong jaw beginning to bristle with stubble. Tom bets Chris can leave a lovely bite. Icy eyes, darker near the pupil. Like a sudden drop in an ocean. Deeper waters hiding things just below. And oh, how Tom wants to know what’s down there. Wants to know everything about this wonderfully handsome boy. Long blond hair, strands floating into his perfectly sculpted face every now and then. Broad shoulders. Smooth, tan skin. He would absolutely  _ love  _ to mark up that youthful skin, biting and bruising it. Scar him up a little maybe. Tom gives himself a wicked grin at the thought and hears the Others agree with him. Tapered waist leading to downright sinful hips. Perfect legs, thick and well-muscled. And oh my  _ god _ , those  _ hands _ . Big, wide palms, calloused. Long, thick fingers. Tom desperately craves those hands on him.

 

Okay so, maybe Tom knows more about Chris and how he looks. He did his research on him after all. It’s his job. It wasn’t really that hard to find many photos of him online. He’s quite popular. But that could also be a major problem for Tom and the whole plan. He logically knows it’s going to be all over the news. How could it not be?

 

Tom begins to sink lower into the water. Head fully submerged. Everything sounding distant. The wind outside muted. He just wishes the Others would leave too.

 

_ “Stop making these pointless wishes.” _

 

_ “Yeah, we’re staying right here kiddo.” _

 

_ “Always going to be with you.” _

 

_ “You’ll never be alone, you’re going to suffer here forever.” _

 

Maybe another minute under and he’ll drown.

 

The dulled out sound of a knock pushes its way through to Tom. He rises out of the water, face looking up to the ceiling. He smooths his hair back, eyes blinking out the blurriness. Another sigh escapes him as he stands up, cautiously stepping onto the bathroom floor. The cold rushes in. He shivers. The robe is warm and fuzzy against his body. He’ll change after he answers the door.

 

His steps are quiet. Another knock, louder this time. Tom reaches the door to his bedroom, unlocking then opening it. There stands one of the maids, dressed in a typical black and white uniform. He eyes her up and down, placing a smirk on his lips. She looks flustered noticing his state of dress. Or lack thereof.

 

“Y-you’re father has requested your presence in his study,” she stammers out, growing quiet as she stares at his chest. He didn’t make much of an effort to tie the robe securely, the front parted to show his chest and slender waist.

 

Tom huffs, realizing he’s going to have to dress back up again.

 

“Ok, tell my old man I’ll be there in 5,” he informs her with a now bored stare and an equally bored tone. Talk of his father always disinterested him.

 

She nods quickly, spinning around and scurrying back down the hall.

 

Tom closes the door, turning and walking the few feet to his bed. He unties his robe and lets it slip off his frame. He runs his fingers through his drying hair, knowing it’s going to get wavy and curl around his ears. Annoying but he puts up with it. Tom dresses in simple jeans, soft and stretchy, and a black t-shirt. Slipping his feet into a pair of comfortable loafers, he doesn’t even bother with socks. 

 

The door creaks open again when Tom leaves his room. The hallway is empty as always, random paintings he enjoys sit on the walls, vases lining the walkway. The many chandeliers on the way to his father’s study lighten up the long stretch before him. A carpet of some gold and blue pattern lay in the middle of the tiled floor, silencing Tom’s footsteps.

 

Soon enough, he’s standing in front of the dark wooden door. He brings a hand up to knock when the door suddenly swings away from his knuckles. Tom’s father is standing there in the doorway looking the same as always. Grumpy and old.

 

“Thomas,” grunts his dad, “I was expecting you sooner. Hurry up next time.”

 

All Tom did was nod, past the point of trying to talk back. His days of being young and foolish were finished quickly. His father made sure of that.

 

Walking into the study after his father, Tom looked around. He’s been in here before but he always gets the urge to check his surroundings whenever he’s around his dad. He’s just always on edge around him it seems.

 

“Sit down,” commands his father, seating himself in his own chair behind his wooden desk. Tom does as he’s asked. A photo of Tom’s mother sits almost in front of him, her smiling stare burning holes into his cheek. He tries not to look at it and instead focuses on a pen that was left out on the desk.

 

“How’s everything going?” Questions his old man, an eyebrow raising expectantly.

 

He, of course, isn’t asking about Tom’s personal well-being. It’s always about business. And Tom’s just fine with that anyways. Like it’s been said so many times before, he could care less about anything regarding his father at all. But he does have to pretend when in his presence or risk getting thrown out. Maybe worse. 

 

“Fine, sir. The research part has come to an end and now we can start the rest. You’ll get what you want. This job will be as easy as the others, we all have predicted the pretty common outcome: we get to have a little fun, you get your money, and the kid goes home. No harm done. At least to us,” Tom tells his father, expression blank, voice low and even. Nothing other than information. 

 

Tom’s father smiles wickedly, humming out his approval. 

 

“You know, I used to be friends with the Hemsworth family. Until they fucked me over for their own success. This is just some revenge, taking back what’s mine. We just need to take something of theirs. It’s a fair trade, don’t you think Thomas? Just don’t go too overboard with any of your...methods. We still need the kid well enough for his parents to think he’s okay. He won’t be but they don’t need the full details. You’ve done a pretty good job so far. Don’t fuck this up. You know what will happen if you do. We don’t need another  _ mistake  _ like last time. Do we,  _ son _ ?” His father, gives him a pointed stare, venom lacing his words. Eyes glaring with authority. He knows he controls Tom. He knows he can make Tom do whatever he wanted him to.

 

“No, sir. No we don’t.” Tom fights the urge to look down like an ashamed little boy. Wanting to cower under that haunting glare.

 

_ “Scared of your daddy little boy?” _

 

_ “Aww poor baby can’t even look his dad in the eye.” _

 

_ “Mr. Scary Dad doesn’t even believe in you, he’s made the right decision.” _

 

_ “Stupid idiot knows he can’t do anything right.” _

 

“Good,” his father concludes, “now go. Leave me be, I need some stuff to work out.”

 

Tom nods again and stands up. His father pulls out a cigar and lights it. He doesn’t offer Tom one. With a wave of his father’s hand, Tom leaves. A final dismissal for the night.

 

The journey back to his room seems like it takes forever. Tom just wants to sleep. His legs feel heavy and a headache is beginning to bloom behind his eyebrows.

 

Once back in his room, Tom flops down onto the bed. He groans, noticing he still has all of his clothes on. He sits up and peels his shirt off, standing momentarily to rid himself of his pants and socks. Tom lays back down, crawling up and settling himself between all the pillows. He clutches one to his chest and curls up. 

 

The Others have died down somewhat. Chatting quietly in the back of his head. One mentions not letting Tom sleep. Another mentions how he probably ate too much that day and would get fat. But right now, Tom didn’t care. He just wanted rest. So he closed his eyes and willed everything else away, except for the sound of his breathing and the feel of cool sheets against his skin.

 

As always he felt himself fall into unconsciousness, he heard a last whisper caress his mind like a tendril of smoke. Never to be heard until he woke up once again.

 

**

 

_ The Others are cruel. Evil. Spiteful. Hateful.  _

 

_ There’s four of them. Cruel always speaks first, then Evil, Spiteful, and finally Hateful. They all came in that order, Cruel startling Tom one day when he was just a young boy of twelve, staring at himself in the mirror. The rest came later throughout the year. He’s been stuck with them ever since. _

 

_ At first, it wasn’t so bad. Tom didn’t have any friends of course as he was homeschooled and lived literally in the middle of the thick forest. He enjoyed having a group to talk to, even though he couldn’t see them and they sounded exactly like him. Maybe having other accents but to him, it was whatever. He was lonely and full of emotion. Mostly anger. But once the Others came, Tom was able to finally vent everything out.  _

 

_ That changed when the Others became more acquainted with Tom’s father. His dad needed him more now that he was growing up. The Others learned to hate him. Just like his father does. They picked on him and called out all his faults. Tom had no one once again. _

 

_ He would try and cover his ears, a pathetic attempt to get them to stop. They’d taunt him, telling him they would never leave. Telling him he was a freak. His head became filled with screaming. _

 

_ One day, Tom had had enough. He approached his father, hands wringing together nervously. He told him everything. And all he got was a beating and more hateful words. The Others loved that. They enjoyed watching him get hit. Enjoyed witnessing true hate. Tom bets that if they could, they would have helped his father. After that, Tom has never, ever told anything remotely important about himself to his father. Actually, he rarely even spoke of himself unless it had to do with business. _

 

_ And now he hates. He hates the Others. And they hate him. _

 

_ He learned to live with it. Live with Cruel, Evil, Spiteful, and Hateful. Live with them always in his head, moving about. Yelling. Screaming. Hissing. Lighting an explosive fire behind his own eyes. Raging. Growing. Never dying because Tom doesn’t deserve something so easy. _

 

_ And he just blanks. Wipes emotion from his face. Don’t give them the satisfaction. Don’t think. Build your wall. Stand with your back to it. Ignore them. Ignore everyone. You’re not safe. But you’re distanced enough. Please don’t let them see me like this. _

 

_ Then all the desperate pleas leave his mind. Hollowness rushing into his head. Nothingness filling his body. The Others drifting back in after the quiet.  _


End file.
